


Culture Shock

by Wolf0PHL



Series: Star Trek: The Nyberrite Alliance [1]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Gen, The Nyberrite Alliance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-18
Updated: 2016-01-18
Packaged: 2018-05-14 19:33:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5755549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolf0PHL/pseuds/Wolf0PHL
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lieutenant Joaquin Sandoval has recently left Starfleet. It was not an amicable parting, but he still wishes to work in space exploration, intergalactic politics, and the various situations that Starfleet vessels find themselves tangled up with.  Unable to find what he wishes within the Federation, he leaves for, and is recruited into, the Nyberrite Alliance. He quickly learns, however, that the Nyberrite Alliance operates very different than anything he ever encountered in Starfleet or the Federation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Culture Shock

# Star Trek: The Nyberrite Alliance – Culture Shock

## Chapter 1 – God Slayer

Lieutenant Joaquin Sandoval thought he was being beamed into the middle of a battlefield. Instead, he found himself looking at a sort of parade. Hundreds of pink humanoid aliens crowded around a stage that was being carried by more of the same aliens. It looked incredibly heavy, the workers looked overtaxed – the entire setup cruel.

A rank of guards, again more of the same, was upon the stage wearing very ornate white armour standing at attention with phaser rifles. In front of the guards, was another alien, this one of a different species. He could tell because of its size, it was taller, and its paper white skin that almost seemed to shimmer in the light. Its clothing was of much better quality than any of the pink aliens and its movements commanded respect and obedience, embodying the very essence of the word ‘regal.’ Once it noticed, it was not happy about the arrival of Sandoval and his parade crashing companions. 

Those in the crowd that had noticed looked stunned upon the materialization of Sandoval and the crew of the _Poisoned Shiv_. Beaming technology, it seemed, was something new and different to the inhabitants of this world. A barked order from the white alien changed those stunned expressions to ones of rage and the crowd began advancing on the crew, the intent to attack clear in their body language.

They were unarmed, but they were charging and their numbers were much greater, so Sandoval did the only sensible thing he could: opened fire, forcing them to take cover or be shot. He could see many of his crew mates responding in kind, attempting to control the stampeding mass, but a small contingent, including Captain Sanquo, whom he recognized because of the large four pointed star (that looked like a ninja’s throwing star), emblazoned across the back his long black jacket, was making its way toward the stage.

The captain, along with most of the crew of the _Poisoned Shiv_ , are of a race called the Hentraal. They are a large and strong race of grey skinned humanoids with something like horns on either side of their head, but not like a bull’s horns or a deer’s antlers. The base of the Hentraal’s horns extend from the front to the back of head and the tops are smooth and rounded instead of pointy. The Hentraal boast of being the Nyberrite Alliance’s proudest race. Hentraal the unconquered they call themselves, though he had no idea why just yet. Being the only human on a ship made up overwhelmingly of Hentraal, he was sure he would eventually learn.

He had met Captain Sanquo the day before when he was recruited out of a tavern on the planet Yeator, a member planet of the Nyberrite Alliance. The bartender had directed Sandoval to Sanquo, Sanquo had taken his Starfleet records, told him he would keep his rank of Lieutenant, and to get ready for battle the next day. That was it, no paperwork, no training, no meetings with superiors and subordinates, a very different procedure than anything he had encountered before. Sanquo did not even want to hear his reasons for leaving Starfleet. And now here he was, fighting a battle against one group of aliens he had no idea about with another group that he knew nearly just as well.

Sandoval was still firing at what remained of the crowd, the vast majority of them now pinned down behind cover as Sanquo mounted the stage with other Hentraal crewmembers and… a Klingon. Yes, his eyes were not mistaken, the flowing hair, the battle armour, though different than any armour worn by warriors of the Klingon empire, the ridge, it was a Klingon.  
The white alien, along with his royal guard, began firing immediately, forcing them to retreat back to the ground. With the crowd still pinned behind cover, Sandoval was able to redirect his fire to the stage, focusing on the royal guards. It was no use, the shots bounced off of their armour. The weapon he was using looked and felt like an old Earth sub-machine gun, something he was familiar with.

He had a lot of experience when it came to old Earth weaponry having spent many days in the holodecks practicing marksmanship with rifles, shotguns, handguns, and anything else that used ammunition. This one was energy based, but it also had sights. He sighted in on the slits on the royal guard’s helmets then brought the weapon back down. He could not fire. He did not even know what was going on. What if these creatures were under duress to protect that other alien? He flipped the weapon to stun, sighted in again then fired. Stun shots to the head would give them one nasty headache but at least they would be alive tomorrow. One by one, the rank of guards went down.

With the royal guard knocked out, Captain Sanquo and the Klingon remounted the stage. The Klingon fired his phaser at the white alien, striking its hand and sending its weapon flying. Then, Sanquo was on it. The Hentraal are a strong intimidating race, and Sanquo is big for a Hentrall. The white alien, and all its regality, was no match for the strength of Sanquo, and it knew it. It did not fight, only accepted its defeat with dignity.

Sandoval looked on quizzically as Sanquo pulled his sabre, cut the ornate top garment off the alien, and sent it sprawling onto the stage. Then he addressed the crowd, whose attention had returned to the stage along with their stunned expressions.

“Friends!” he announced, “I have come to help you, and I have come to make your false god bleed!” Then he slashed the alien overlord across its chest, a clear liquid began oozing out. Sanquo grabbed it again, this time whirling and throwing it into the crowd, which surrounded the bleeding being newly demoted from godhood. Sandoval watched the crowd swallow it up as he was beamed back aboard the _Poisoned Shiv_.


End file.
